A Second, Not a Universe
by D4L3K
Summary: What separates the Doctor and his Rose? Was it a universe or one little second where time seemed to stop?


A Second, Not a Universe

_There is no remedy for love but to love more.  
_- Henry David Thoreau

_Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation._  
- Kahlil Gibran

_I love thee with the breath, _  
_Smiles, tears, of all my life; and if God choose, _  
_I shall but love thee better after death.  
_-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

He stares at the white-washed wall with the dazzling sky-colored lights shining off to the sides and thinks… of nothing. His mind is numb and his hearts are cold. Where did the warmth go? Where did the small feeling of completion go? The familiar haunting, the unrelenting grip of loneliness returns and he almost can't breath, it's so painful. Without conscious thought, he walks toward the giant wall, his head light and so far away. His body feels slack and he stops wondering. His mind is a blank.

He reaches out slowly and touches the smooth surface, leaning his cheek against the coolness. He stares at a point somewhere between his hand and the wall, lost. Seeing nothing, and yet desperately trying to see something that no longer exists. He struggles to conjure up the image of her.

And suddenly, he can feel her presence as if she's right _there_, leaning back against the other side. He can feel the beat of her one, human heart. He can hear her love, her goodness, and the song of her soul. He listens to her sharp intake of breath as she presses back against the wall, trying desperately to come through the wall and reach him. He wishes she could, but after so long of walking this universe, he knows she can't. He can feel her broken heart, her broken soul. Her sadness, her anguish, her fear, his fear, his loneliness, their loss. And he hates the universe. He pushes away from the wall with emptiness inside. Their connection lost. As he walks away, he wonders. He wonders why they always leave. He wonders why the universe needs protecting. He wonders why such sacrifice should have to be given for such a cruel world. He wonders what would happen if he just acted selfishly this once and opened up the void to get to her. He wonders if he'll ever be whole again.

He wanders back to the Tardis, not sure how he found it, but not caring. Her gentle hum speaks volumes. Her song reaches across the very fabric of time and space and deep into his hearts, so deep that she reaches the place where she opens the void inside of him. And Rose comes pouring out. He sinks down to his knees and closes his eyes, basking in the memories of her. The Tardis cries for him, mourning and singing and comforting and searching and reaching and forever understanding. She binds with his mind and reaches out across the threads of time and space, across the foundation of life and death, toward _her_. They call out to her together, entering her dreams. And he is sad and happy at the same time to find that she is dreaming of him. He whispers her name as the Tardis sings on. He keeps speaking to her as the hum of his beloved Tardis grows.

They meet on a beach where they can only look at each other, where they are denied even the small comfort of holding onto the other's hand and he dies at the shattered look in her eyes. He takes a bit of selfish comfort in seeing an echo of her lively, lovely self when she sees him though.

As she cries, he dies just a little more and contemplates whether humanity is worth this pain that is like poison inside his body, eating him from the inside out, clawing at his hearts and ripping at his soul. He memorizes her tear-stained face as she brokenly says, "I love you."

And he can only whisper, "Quite right, too." Because the pain is killing him. His strength is failing. He has destroyed a sun to get to her and he knows he would be glad and willing to destroy and kill a lot more just to hold her again. He is on the verge of saying it, so close. The first time in his battered life. But maybe he's gotten too good at denying others a peek into his soul because it's too late. She's gone and he's gone and there's no going back. He cries because what else is there? He closes his eyes and in that tiny moment, it all blinds him. He wants to tear through the universe. Rip out his hearts so the pain would stop. Scream until there's nothing left.

But he only turns toward the consoles of the Tardis and wipes away his tears. He's facing an empty room again… where the only sound is his old girl. But she's crying too. And he pauses, wondering again. Was it really a universe that had separated them? He relives the moments before she fell and nearly dies because it's all coming back. Her damned goodness. Her stupid caring nature and loving soul. That's why she had fallen. To save a planet of stupid apes. He wants to cackle, but he knows he can't quite manage it because he loves her too much.

A second.

That was all that really separated them. Maybe, he wonders. Maybe if there had been less abruptness, less secrets, more openness, no Reinette, more hugs, a few kisses, and more words of love…. Maybe she would have held on that extra second… and the void would have closed. She would be here. And they would be together. And he would be telling her how much he loved her and that mortality was just a word. And forever was their love. And he wonders vaguely if he'll ever dream of anything other than the difference between one second and one universe. And how much he wishes he could just go back right now and whisper to her, urging her to hold on just for one more second.

But he can't and he doesn't. Instead he turns and walks a little further around the consoles, trying to bury thoughts of her and not forget. Remember, but not relive. Love, but not yearn. Move on, but always hold tight. Live on, but with half a soul. See the rest of this universe, but not dream of hers. Hold someone else's hand through danger, but not wish it was hers. Travel with another, but not be alone.

He lets out a shaky breath and tries to suppress the tremors, tries to forget the second and the universe. Tries to forget the pain, but hang on to her. Move on, move on, move on… because that's what he does… that's who he is. Always moving, never lingering because sometimes, even the Doctor can't do the impossible. And sometimes, there is really no difference between a second and a universe.


End file.
